


The Coven of Paimon

by Little_vesuvius



Series: The Promise Saga [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, Cas and Dean Don't Trust Each Other, Cas' True Vessel is a Woman, Castiel has Poor Social Skills, Castiel in a Female Vessel, Dean Hates Witches, Dean is an Idiot, Dean is the Righteous Man, Demon-dealing witches, Descriptions of death from POV of Dying characters, Destiel - Freeform, Fake Psychic Castiel, Female Castiel, Female Castiel/Male Dean Winchester, Future Destiel, Homunculi Are Possible But Difficult to Make, Injured Castiel, M/F but technically Other, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, Multi, Multi-POV, Only Cas is Gender-Bent, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, Pre-series Episode: The Coven of Paimon, Seriously Weakened But Not Fallen Castiel, Supposed to Chronicle One Hunt, Trigger warning-strangulation, Violent Deaths, Witches in Supernatural, everyone else is normal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_vesuvius/pseuds/Little_vesuvius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey all; I know, I know, I own nothing of Supernatural except this idea. Cas made Dean a binding oath during season five, one the angel couldn’t keep, so God intervened.  But Cas can’t go back to the past in anything but their True Vessel, so God takes His child, and puts Castiel into her True Vessel…  </p><p>Now, in 2005, Dean Winchester runs into a dark-haired, blue-eyed woman named Castiel while working a case in Bear River, WY.  He is suspicious of her at first, but there is much more to this case than meets the eye, and Dean will have to trust this strange woman to save the town.</p><p>Edit: Stalled due to insane workload.  Please stick with me, guys; I'm a last-semester uni student trying not to crash before finals are over.  After finals my schedule should even out.</p><p>If you have serious questions for me, my tumblr inbox is finally active (took me so long to get back to it) at little-vesuvius.tumblr.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witches?  Not AGAIN...

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Supernatural, but I do own my version of Castiel. I thought it would be interesting to write in someone who used to be an angel. (No, this does not mean Cas’ secret will be given away immediately, but this is an interesting concept.)
> 
> Note: Every resident of this town is fictional. The town itself is not. The layout is something I've been looking at.
> 
> Second Note: Yes, this is an original story with an original hunt involved. Don’t like it, don’t read it-it will start following the show later.
> 
> Third: This is pre-relationship. PRE RELATIONSHIP. They don't trust ANYONE at this point...but Cas really WANTS to trust Dean.
> 
> Finally: This was born from a desire to see Dean/Cas/Sam dynamic occurring in Season One and from a desire to push Dean to grow up fast in the earlier seasos.

P-R-O-M-I-S-E

Bear River, Wyoming. It was way out in the middle of _freaking nowhere_ , which sucked, because it meant sleazy motels with worse beds than usual. Also pretty typical for his job. Well, at least it wasn’t that freaky hoodoo case he’d been tracking down in Louisiana. He’d had to sleep in the back of his baby, because with that witch doctor around, _nowhere_ had been safe. Not even a motel.

Luckily the doctor hadn’t touched his baby, or Dean would’ve been toast.

This was his third hunt without any contact from Dad, which was a little weird. Last he’d heard, his Dad had gone out to check on somethin’ down in Texas. Supposedly he’d gotten a lead on the thing that’d killed Mom. He wasn’t too sure exactly what his dad was hunting, but he liked not having to check in every other day.

It was nice not having the man breathing down his neck for a change.

He would’ve loved having backup on a hunt like this, though. He could get it done alone, but he wished Sammy were here with him anyway. Not like he could trust any other hunter to have his back.

Dean was on his way to the house of the most recent victim, with a fake FBI badge. It was much easier to fake being FBI with a gun, since he didn’t have to dress up in a monkey suit. As he walked down the street, he considered what could be doing this. Ten deaths in a small town, all ruled as suicides, with each of them dying in ten different ways over the past three weeks, which made it a pattern.

The first guy had been found locked in his car with the engine running. It’d been wrapped around a tree, but the body was almost completely intact. The second, a woman about Dean’s age, had killed herself by jumping off an overhang at a local park. Body also nearly completely intact. The third was an old woman who looked like she’d overdosed on sleeping pills, while the fourth had hung himself in his room. Again, the bodies were completely intact.

Intact bodies from what seemed to be accidental or suicidal deaths. In a town as small as Bear River, nobody just dropped dead or committed suicide without being linked _somehow_ , and the nearly-intact bodies just made things weirder.

After the fourth death, people started dying from freaky, screwed-up seemingly ‘natural’ causes. One guy in his 20s and in near-perfect shape had died of a heart attack. The newspapers described it as a ‘shocking’ death since the man was a star athlete and training to be an Olympic runner. It almost looked like poison, but there were no traces of it in the autopsy report Bobby’d put together.

Another had caught what had looked like the flu, and died from it, despite being about forty and in otherwise perfect health. One woman supposedly died of TB without ever getting it treated, but from what the obituary said, she’d only started coughing about a day before her death. Then some guy died of what looked like the Black Plague, according to _his_ obituary, and a woman had died of ‘a botany accident’ of some kind. Then, the last one’s obituary hadn’t even said how she’d died-just estimated time of death and said she was found in her house.

Suspicious, ‘natural’ deaths were usually because of some creepy witch or something worse. God, Dean hoped it was just a crazy witch on a revenge kick. Otherwise he’d need backup, which he didn’t have right now.

He was on his way to the last victim’s house, to try and figure out how she’d died. And maybe, he hoped, to get more of a lead on the killer.

The deaths were all different. It was probably a witch, given the way most of them died was ‘natural’ but stuff like this was weird, even for a witch to pull off. It wasn’t at all like the normal, freaky deaths they caused from their rituals and spells-it was worse. But it sure as hell wasn’t a restless spirit, either, which meant it was something more dangerous.

There wasn’t a pattern to the killings, either. That was Dean’s only real clue right now. If there really _were_ something funky about how the last vic died, it’d confirm that this was all connected somehow and give him more of an idea of what he was dealing with. Hopefully the witch wasn’t looking for ritual sacrifices for somethin’, which would be just his dumb luck.

Somehow he _always_ ended up in the middle of those things when hunting witches, and it sure wasn’t like he asked for it. Hopefully this time he wouldn’t end up smack in the middle and in need of backup.

As Dean walked, he looked down at the paper again, frowning at the vague wording of the obituary. What the hell kind of obituary didn’t put in cause of death, anyway? Just seemed really weird.

He didn’t see the person coming his way until it was too late, and then they hit him hard in the side of his left arm with a meaty _thud_. It felt like being hit with a bar of solid metal right above his elbow joint, and fiery pain shot through his whole arm. Dean stumbled back a few steps with a curse as the other stumbled back too, dropping something to the ground.

Dean grimaced, clutching at his aching arm as he looked up and blinked back the tears of pain in his eyes, fully prepared to give the jackass that’d hit him a piece of his mind. Then he saw her, and his breath caught as he stared.

Because the jackass who’d hit him wasn’t a man, or an old lady intent on getting somewhere quick.

It was an attractive woman, about his age. She had long, wavy dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, framing a face with high cheekbones, pale skin, and stark, piercing blue eyes. She was wincing, too, holding her left shoulder like it hurt-a _lot_ , no doubt.

And she was wearing a tan trench coat over a slightly too-big men’s suit. Which was _not_ normal, but hey, he’d seen weirder on humans.

She caught his eyes, and her own eyes widened “Oh,” she said, wincing as she rubbed at her shoulder where she’d hit him. “I’m sorry,” her voice was deep, almost throaty, like she’d just had sex. “I wasn’t watching. Are you alright?”

Dean shrugged, hiding the wince as he regretted the action “It’s not that bad,” he replied. He was pretty sure he’d have a bruise from it, but it wasn’t worth a hospital visit. “You?”

“I’m fine,” she said, all traces of the wince gone as she shook out her shoulder. That shoulder felt like it was made of _steel_. She bent down, picking up her purse and the leather-bound book that had fallen out of it, “I’m sorry I ran into you,” she said.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he said, giving her his best lady-killer smile. For some reason that made her expression darken a little. “What’s your name?”

The least he could do was get her name. Maybe more, if he was lucky.

Besides, who wore a trench coat and suit in the middle of July, even if it _was_ Wyoming? It was nearly seventy degrees and she’d have been sweltering, but she looked _fine_. That was a little suspicious. Maybe he could get some information out of her, or _maybe_ she was involved on the case.

And if not, well, he might get her number anyway.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, almost reminding Dean of a bird, and frowned slightly. “I thought it was common courtesy to give your name first.”

Dean chuckled “Yeah, sometimes it is,” he said, “I’m Dean.”

She didn’t smile, but he swore he saw her lips twitch a little, and her expression became much less serious. It made her look years younger. “I am Castiel,” she replied.

Castiel? Who named their daughter _Castiel_? Really odd name, especially for a girl.

She was probably from some uber-religious family. He was pretty sure there was a church of St. Castiel or some angel named Castiel, somewhere in all the reading Bobby had made him do last week. It sounded Biblical, at least. But the name seemed to fit.

Dean nodded “Interesting name.” Castiel shrugged slightly, as if she was used to hearing it. She probably was. “You from around here?”

“No,” said Castiel, “I am,” she paused, and tilted her head again “I am looking for someone.”

Family, friends, boyfriend…? It didn’t look like it to him, but he couldn’t tell. He wasn’t nearly as good at reading people as Sammy could.  

Dean smirked a little “You don’t look like the type.” Almost immediately Castiel’s expression blanked out, and Dean felt like he was staring at a blank wall.

Castiel nodded “I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Dean,” then she moved around him, and he watched her go.

Her clothes hid what they could, but they couldn’t hide her walk-graceful, but stiff, like a soldier’s. Maybe she was one of those Army brats who couldn’t fit back into normal life or a rich kid with weird tastes in clothing. He’d sure as hell run across _those_ before-and he hated most of them. He might run into her again, if he stuck around, which would be awesome. She was awkward, but then awkward women were cute, and once he got them going they could be really good in bed. Beneath that suit, he was fairly sure there was a sexy woman, and her voice was _really_ sexy.

Dean really hoped she was normal. He’d hate to have to hutn her, weird though she was. She was the first woman he’d met since Cassie who hadn’t looked twice at him to start with, or been drawn in by the smile. Some girls were good for a one-night stand or some fun, but Castiel…didn’t seem like the type.

Beneath that suit he was pretty sure there was some kind of catlike woman, given the way she walked with that deep-throated sex voice. He’d be disappointed if she had a boyfriend, even though she didn’t seem all that interested.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he turned toward the house of the latest victim, one Emily Smythe. Well, no time like the present to get to work on charming the locals. Even if what he really wanted to do was find out more about this mysterious Castiel chick.

He walked up the steps to the house, and knocked on the door without looking back.

“We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers, or ex-friends!” came a gruff shout from inside the house. “Go away!” it sounded like an older man with a slight Western accent; probably Emily’s father or grandfather, given how old she’d been.

Dean just knocked again. Some people were rude, but this was his job, and Dean had dealt with worse on a bad day. “I’m not any of those,” he said, “FBI, sir; open up.”

He heard someone get up and start walking toward the door. FBI usually did the trick. Dean stepped back from the door, with his hand in his pocket on his false ID. His other hand was on the handle of his gun, because he didn’t know what kind of guy this was answering the door.

The old man who answered the door looked to be in his sixties or early seventies, with short, whitening hair, several wrinkles on his face, and reddened eyes from crying. He was a little shorter than Dean, wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt and jeans.

Dean flipped out his FBI badge, professionally “Agent Dean Lannister,” it was time to shake things up a bit, since he’d started reading that _Game of Thrones_ series, and he liked the house of Lannister.

Sexy, crude, power-hungry bastards the lot of them, but if the shoe fit… hell, he wouldn’t complain.

“You don’t look like FBI,” the man said suspiciously. “You look a little young.”

Dean glanced around and leant in slightly “I’m incognito right now,” he said, lowering his voice. “Trying to keep from raising a big fuss about this. The director wants this investigated, but without raising a big stink about it. Can I come in?”

The man nodded “Y-yeah, sure,” and stepped back from the door, sniffling as he let Dean in.

It was just like any other home that Dean had ever seen, and he’d seen quite a few, except here, there were Chinese paintings in the entryway. He’d seen a picture of Emily; she’d looked half-Chinese, which meant her mother was probably from Asia, since a picture of her dad had been in the newspaper. This guy didn’t look Asian, though, so he was probably her granddad on her dad’s side.

“This way,” said the man, leading him into a living room area that had an Asian rug on the floor, a low coffee table, and a couch as well as two leather chairs.

The room was elegantly furnished, had a fireplace, and on the mantel above it was several pictures of people, including Emily. Curiously, no one else was home, even though Emily was ‘survived’ by her whole family, including two brothers, a sister, a mother, and her grandparents, who were said to have found their granddaughter.

Dean was distracted by the old man, “Do you want a beer?” Dean turned to him in surprise, and the man offered him a small, sad smile, “I’m having one. Unless it’s against regulations, of course.”

Dean smirked “Yeah, well,” he shrugged “Not really big on the rules myself. One beer won’t hurt.” The elderly man smiled a little more.

“I knew a man like you, when I was in the Army,” he said, and Dean was left in the living room to look around a little. “Good man, he was. Great commander,” the ex-soldier added from the kitchen.

Dean paid very little attention, trying to take in the living room instead, but couldn’t stop the faint flush from rising to his cheeks at the praise.

There was a computer plugged into the wall, with its monitor resting on what looked like a serious gamer’s desk. Dean wasn’t going anywhere near that, not unless he found out something about the woman that meant she was a gamer. For all he knew, it belonged to a relative. Instead, he walked over to the mantel, to take a closer look at the pictures.

Emily’d been beautiful, not that the picture in the paper did her any justice, and was exactly Dean’s type. Asiatic features, dark hair, heavy-lidded warm hazel eyes, and a tendency to dress in really _nice_ clothes. Almost like a super-hot nerd girl, kinda like the ones he’d seen at Stanford the last time he’d checked in with Sammy, at the sorority parties. She was standing arm-in-arm with a woman who didn’t look related to her at all, someone with strawberry-blonde hair, a heart-shaped face, and baby blue eyes, but they were both smiling in the picture he settled on. Now _she_ was a possible suspect, since she didn’t match the looks of the obituaries that he’d seen.

Emily’s grandfather came back into the room, carrying two beers, and offered one to Dean after cracking it open. Dean accepted it, and the old man sat down in the bigger of the two leather chairs, looking wistfully at the picture of Emily on the mantel.

Dean sat down too, on the couch after making sure he didn’t squash a stuffed animal that looked like a bear. Kind of. It looked fairly old and ratty, but he was pretty sure that at some point it’d been someone’s teddy bear.

“I don’t understand,” said the old man. “Your partner was just here; why does the FBI need to talk to me about my granddaughter’s death,” his voice cracked “Twice?”

Partner? Who could he…wait, _Castiel_??

Dean frowned “I’m going to have to talk to my boss about that,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “I wasn’t told there was another agent in town.”

Interesting.

Was Castiel the one he was talking about? She’d been coming toward him and he couldn’t see any other reason she’d have had for being in the neighborhood, since she’d been getting some strange looks. If she’d lived here, she’d have been ignored.   She dressed kinda like an agent, too.

“Really,” said the old man, with a frown “Hmm.” He took a sip of his beer, nodding to Dean “You just missed her.”

“Can I have a description of her, just so I know what to look for?” asked Dean. “There are so many of us,” he chuckled a little, “Well, I’m sure you get it. She might even be one of our Interpol contacts, since there are a few of them in the Midwest this time of yea.”

The old man snorted, “Didn’t sound British to me. She dressed kind of weird for a government agent, though she might’ve been undercover, I guess.” He sniffed “She had dark hair, bright blue eyes, and she was wearing a tan trench coat over a man’s suit.”

Castiel. _Castiel_ had just been here. So he was right; there was something not quite normal about that woman.

Damn. If she was an FBI agent, he’d better hope she either didn’t check him out immediately or that she would believe him. He’d have to stick around to make sure she didn’t get herself killed, and working with law enforcement never ended well for hunters. Most of them were too stubborn to do anything except get their fool selves killed.

Dean nodded “Did she give you a name?”

The man smiled “Yeah, she was-she was really nice about it. She said her name was Cassidy MacGyver, and she’d heard the jokes before.”

So Castiel had been lying, either to this man or to Dean, about her name. Dean was willing to bet she was lying to the old man, since the name MacGyver was from the movies. That was a pretty obvious cover, too, but he was pretty sure MacGyver was also a real last name. Huh.

That meant the name Castiel was either another cover, or it was her real name. He had the strangest feeling that it was really her name, but couldn’t figure out why. It was sure weird for a cover name, if it _was_ a cover name.

“Didn’t smile very much, though,” Dean returned his attention to the old man. “She said her family didn’t like showing emotion when I asked her about it.” Huh. That explained why she hadn’t smiled at him at all. “But she was very nice. Is she supposed to be here?”

Dean nodded. “Well, if you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to go over my set of questions again. I’ll check my information against hers,” he said, when the older man opened his mouth “But I probably won’t have quite the same questions as she did.”

The man snorted, looking away with a shake of the head.

Dean agreed with him completely “Yeah, I get it, but it’s my job,” he shrugged “And just between you and me, my boss will have my ass if I don’t ask you all of these.”

“Sure, sure,” said the old man. “You’re here about Emily.” Dean nodded. “I was the one who found her, lying on the bathroom floor. She’d just gone upstairs to brush her teeth-she had a date,” explained the man “And he was at the door.”

“And what was his name?” Dean would have to check him out, too.

The old man frowned “I think it was Zachary Quinn,” he said. “He lives in town. She asked us to stall for her for a minute, and I heard the sink go on. Then…” he swallowed “Then she didn’t come back out of the bathroom, so I asked my wife to go check on her, to see if she needed anything.”

Dean nodded “I’m sorry we have to ask this twice,” he said gently, as the grandfather blew his nose and wiped at his eyes with two sheets of Kleenex “But we have to be sure this was really an accident. How did you find her?”

“T-There was blood, on the bathroom floor-it was coming out of her mouth,” said the man with a quiet sob “I-I’ve never seen so much blood. S-she-she was choking on it, something i-in her throat. My wife called the ambulance but it was too late…she was gone before they got her to the hospital,” he whispered. “She was brilliant; she was going to be salutatorian of her class at Boulder.”

Dean let him grieve silently, taking another sip of his beer. Emily did sound brilliant. He knew Boulder was a good school, but to be salutatorian at any college was good, given how big college classes were.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” said Dean quietly, “It’s part of the investigation. I have just a few more questions for you.” He waited for the old man to nod, and compose himself again. “Did Emily have any enemies? People who might’ve wanted her gone, or hurt? A jealous ex, a friendship gone sour…”

Her grandfather frowned “No. No, everyone loved Emily,” he said, his voice breaking “She-she wasn’t always the best at talking to people, but she was really, genuinely kind. She,” he choked, and looked down. “She was a little-outspoken for our town, but we loved her.”

“Could anyone have disagreed with her?” asked Dean.

Emily’s grandfather scowled at him “You think someone who disagreed with her _political_ views wanted her dead? Or her _opinions_? This was an _accident_ , Agent Lancaster, like I told your coworker.”

No way. Dean knew better than to think it was an accident; the whole thing stank of a witch. Not that he’d say anything.

Dean nodded “I understand that. I just have to be sure, because if this is related to the other deaths, then we might be dealing with a serial killer,” he explained.

The targets had to be linked for one reason or another. There was no reason for anyone except a serial killer to go after unrelated people and these deaths were too ‘natural’ looking to be a serial killer’s work. That probably meant demonic possession or demon-powered witches. Best cover for that was a nutty serial killer with an obsession with the occult, especially if he had to work this case with someone in law enforcement.

He was going to be busy for the next week or so. He slid the notepad he’d pulled from his jacket out and flipped to the list of names of the dead, before handing it over to Emily’s grandfather.

“Did she happen to know any of these people?” he asked.

Her grandfather’s eyes went down the list “No…well, yes,” he corrected himself, handing the notepad back to him. “Jenny Davies. She was Emily’s best friend.”

Jenny was the last person killed, about two and a half days before Emily. Dean would no doubt have to interview every one of the victim’s families or links in this area, just to be sure, but he could see the older man frowning, as he tried to come up with an explanation. How had Emily known Jennifer Davies?

“How?” he asked, knowing that was the best way to get what he needed.

Emily’s grandfather took a sip from his beer “They weren’t-friends, exactly. Jenny needed help with her grades, back in high school, and Emily tutored her. Emily was so smart…” Dean nodded, making a note of it. “They were friendly, but they weren’t friends. Emily didn’t even talk to her anymore. I don’t understand, what does this have to do with my granddaughter’s death?”

“These nine people were the others who died in the past month,” said Dean, and Emily’s grandfather gasped. “Emily sounds like she was a great person,” he said, taking another sip, “Wish I’d had someone like that to help me back in school.” He paused. “Say, did Agent MacGyver ask to see where it happened?”

How had the guy not known their names? Did he live somewhere else or something? Something wasn’t right here.

“Yeah, she did,” said the other, and Dean frowned “We-we haven’t been in there since…” he trailed off. “But she was.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” said Dean “I’d like to see it, too. You said your wife found her?” he asked, as the older man slowly got to his feet.

“Y-yes,” he replied, as he led Dean up the stairs “There was so much blood…”

“Do you know if they figured out what happened?” Dean asked, keeping his tone gentle.

He could tell the guy was still in shock, even if the older man wasn’t going to admit to it. The signs were there, even if it was mild-if he was still okay and Castiel hadn’t done anything, the guy would probably live.

Mr. Smythe looked at him sharply “No. They just…they said she choked to death on her toothbrush,” Dean nodded as he was led to the bathroom. “I can’t…”

Toothbrush? Really? Witches were really getting creative these days. And nasty. Dean would never look at a toothbrush the same way again.

“It’s alright,” said Dean, “Thank you.” He walked into the room, skirting the edge of the doorway cautiously and putting a hand on his concealed gun.

“I’ll be downstairs,” said her grandfather, sounding like he was choking back tears.

The room was rank with the smell of old blood. Clearly it hadn’t been cleaned since Emily’s death. The white tile was stained with rusty red in the shape of a woman’s body, lying on her side, and the inside was dark. He flipped on the light, but nothing really changed about the room, except that now he could see the white sink was stained, too. It was mostly stained down the left side, showing a trail of blood that had obviously pooled on the floor before Emily had fallen over to begin with. Pulling on a pair of plastic gloves, Dean crouched down and took a sample of her blood from the tile, scraping it off with a penknife into a tiny plastic bag.  

Then Dean started looking around for the hex bag. The witches were always sloppy enough to leave one behind, no matter what they did.

He opened the blue shower curtains, checked the sides of the sink and behind the door. Then he poked around the bathroom shelving and under the sink, trying to avoid the toilet, because any witch who put one there was just freaking _nasty_. Nothing. Great, now he had to avoid making noise and check behind the sink. He barely managed it, hoisting himself up so he was half-lying over the blood-stained sink, and prayed the bag wasn’t about to hit him with its freaky mojo too.

Something small and black, like a triangle of black cloth, was poking out of the very back of the sink, between the sideboard and the backboard of the sink. It was barely visible, and almost impossible to see. He wouldn’t have found it if he hadn’t been looking for the hex bag in particular. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and another plastic bag so he didn’t have to touch it. Then he carefully tugged it out, surprised at how easy it was to pull it out.

If Castiel _was_ a hunter, then she’d missed this bag. Then again, it also didn’t look like it was that powerful, so it was possible she’d de-powered it and forgotten about it. It didn’t look like it’d been de-powered, though, which meant she’d been distracted.

That was if she was a hunter at all. But even an FBI agent would pick up hex bags. Hell, he’d _seen_ them do stupid shit like that several times over. What was going on here?

He took a closer look at it, and was surprised when he realized it wasn’t bulging like a normal hex bag. He prodded it with the tweezers, confused, before he realized the bag was empty. Completely empty.

Dean put the empty hex bag in his own warded cloth bag _after_ putting it into the plastic one. He couldn’t afford to be careless, not with a witch in town. And it looked less professional not to use a plastic bag. What could do that to a hex bag? He’d never seen anything that could, not like this. Nothing he knew of, in any of his research and any of Bobby’s books, could empty a hex bag and leave it relatively harmless-looking. At least not without touching it.

But it hadn’t been untouched, had it? Castiel had been here. She could’ve emptied it and put it back. But _why_ would she do that? Was she trying to keep him on the trail of whoever had done this?

Or had she touched it at all? That looked like it had needed magic to put it in that spot in the first place. He’d have to do some more research before writing off something Castiel did as the cause, though.

Dean checked the whole bathroom over, using his EMF meter. It only started beeping near the mirror. He swiped the underside of it using a cotton swab, and put that in a bag to analyze later. Just in case it was something weird. That wasn’t normal either, at least not for a witch killing. What the hell was that? Could it have been sulfur? He didn’t smell sulfur, but it was possible the smell had just aired out. He doubted it, though there was a little of the yellow stuff on the cotton swab.

Witches. Why the hell did it have to be witches? He headed back downstairs, knowing he _might_ be missing something, but Emily was still a victim. Yeah, sure, she was connected to the first victim, but that didn’t automatically make her a target.

Unless Jenny was a witch too, but Dean seriously doubted that. What kind of witch killed _herself_ though? The whole situation didn’t make any sense.

P-R-O-M-I-S-E

 


	2. A Pattern (Castiel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next step in the investigation. Castiel's POV day, and what happens after she sees Dean again. For the first time.
> 
> Cas knows him but Dean doesn't know Cas, and after hitting him in the street all she can think about is the time they spent together in the future. And something is rotten in the state of Wyoming, to Cas' senses, in the Davies house. She investigates, but nothing is as it seems; Jenny Davies, who was studying botany, died due to accidentally eating aconite, and left no note. So Castiel investigates, but what she finds is not good.
> 
> Also features several OCs. 
> 
> WARNING: Contains talk of suicide and murder, as well as blatantly featuring Mormon characters (as Bear River is close to Utah). If this bothers you, please skip the conversation between Castiel and Tracey and Frank Davies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Castiel POV? Impossible to get right until the 40th rewrite. I have this (the whole story) 2/3 of the way written (the whole story) but it takes me forever to nail the dialogue. I wish I'd nailed it a year ago but every time I looked back I just wasn't satisfied with it. I'm still sort of not okay with how Cas thinks in this chapter, but I tried to make them as in-character as possible.
> 
> Also, I apologize for being That Author Who Never Updates. Truth is, I'm a perfectionist, so it only gets posted when I think I have something worth posting. I'm working on this, but I think uploading in chunks once I've finished pieces might honestly work better.
> 
> The Mormon characters are because they literally live less than an hour from Utah and I figure that some people in Bear River would statistically be Mormon. I would say having a Mormon church is also not unlikely, but if it's wrong, someone please mention it to me. These characters are purely fictional and I wrote this for my own entertainment (and yours). 
> 
> I'm sure there are errors, and if so please point them out? I don't always notice minor errors in my work.

Dean.

Even six months of being human and living in 2005 still hadn’t prepared her for the possibility of seeing _him_ again.By her Father, he was so young and bright compared to the man she once knew.His soul was less worn, bearing no traces of her holding him together after the Pit, as he hadn’t yet gone to Hell.And yet, there was still a bit of her Grace there, something her Father had no doubt tethered to him the second she came back for him.

For Dean.

She was on a job, now, and while she’d been looking for the Winchesters, she’d hoped to meet up with them _after_ Dean met back up with Sam and they started hunting again.Or better yet, when their father wasn’t in the picture at all, because John Winchester was a problem she wasn’t ready or equipped to solve yet.

Time was clearly intent on forcing her hand.It had happened once before, so why she was surprised now, she didn’t know.Time itself would fight back against any changes she made to the timeline.It was going to fight her tooth and nail at every turn, to try and force the Winchesters back into their ‘roles’ that she had already seen them force themselves to play. 

Not this time.

Castiel had been given a gift.This wasn’t a curse, or a punishment resurrection, to force her to learn a lesson.Not this time.Perhaps, her first hadn’t been either.But this?

This was a second chance, one her Father had given her in an attempt to right what had gone so terribly, horribly wrong before.It hadn’t felt like much of one until today, when she’d found Dean again, so young and so terribly whole.

Dean, before he knew what it felt like to be broken, was beautiful.Before he had gone to Hell.Before his soul bore scars, marks that her Grace had had to fill, and that had been torn to pieces when she’d died the first time.

Before he _was_ broken and then remade, Castiel corrected herself.Seeing him like this only made her more determined to keep that future from coming to pass, at all costs.Even if that meant going to Hell herself in his place.She would not let Sam Winchester die.

Castiel turned back to watch him go once she knew he wasn’t watching anymore.Seeing the brilliant glow of his soul made her feel dangerously close to crying.Again.She had a second chance here.A chance to save him from Hell, to stop things from going according to plan.If she just did things _right_ this time, she could stop it all from ever truly happening in the first place.

But the case came first, and now he didn’t know her anymore.She was back in time, back years before Dean had ever met Castiel, and that was both a good and a bad thing for her. 

It was good, because it meant she might be able to help him avoid Hell.She could interfere in his cases and actually make sure he succeeded where he wanted to, and for once, maybe keep some people alive.But he didn’t know her, and now, he didn’t trust her—and that could very well get him killed.That was the bad side of things; that, and the fact that her wings hadn’t started healing until she touched him today.

Cas was no stranger to his trust issues.It had taken her nearly six months to earn his complete trust before, and she didn’t expect it to be any easier this time around.She sighed, starting back off down the street, feeling his eyes on her back.She didn’t let herself look back a second time, turning down another road toward the car she’d stolen.She could feel her wings starting to knit themselves back together, _finally_ —another gift her Father had left her with.

All confronting him right now would do was make him even more suspicious of her.Dean had been a paranoid hunter long before she’d met him, and she didn’t want him to try and hunt her while they were working the same case.He wasn’t quite as paranoid these days as he’d become, but that was because he hadn’t run afoul of Gordon yet. 

And once he did, and Azazel started playing his favorite mind games with the brothers, Dean’s trust issues would quickly run so deep she couldn’t get near him.

Why she’d given him her real name was beyond her.It was stupid, _foolish_ , considering that she had legal records made under that name in this life.Kaelyn Castiel Novak was supposed to be in a mental hospital in Denver, Colorado.Admitted for hearing voices. 

Father had helped her get away, get release papers and everything after she cleansed her vessel from its addictions, else she would’ve had a real problem.Addiction to psychiatric medications would not have been fun to deal with.

Heaven would’ve found her immediately if she’d stayed.She’d been on the run for at least six months, after recovering as best she could at Bobby’s, and tried to keep out of the public eye, working as a hunter.

And even with all that, she’d nearly given herself away the moment she walked into Dean. 

She still trusted him, which was dangerous.He didn’t know her and she didn’t know him; he could use the information against her, but she _knew_ him, better than anything.And she knew he wouldn’t.She would know him anywhere, and even now she was confident he wouldn’t. 

His father, though, was another matter.Heaven could monitor them through John, because he’d said yes to Michael once.Sometimes, she knew, the archangel had checked in on the Winchesters to make sure destiny stayed on course.It was possible for an angelic vessel to be re-possessed after they’d given consent once.Castiel’s skill with wards was the only warning she would have about Michael’s sudden arrival

Provided the archangel didn’t get around them somehow, that is.Which she wasn’t sure wouldn’t happen, given everything Raphael and Michael had shown themselves capable of, not to mention Lucifer.Both had been and were geniuses in their own right; she had no way of knowing what they had discovered in the time they’d been alive before her. 

She did know that she had managed to trick them both with warding schemes last time, but only with access to her full power.And right now, she wasn’t even close to that, even if an old legend had given her a way to start recovering properly.All thanks to Bobby’s library, of course.

She didn’t know how closely Heaven was monitoring the Winchesters, or what strengths or weapons they had hidden in John Winchester’s soul to ensure the apocalypse would proceed as planned.But it was something she would have to keep in mind, as her Father had warned before sending her to this time.He had given her the knowledge personally. 

If her Father found it worth His time to warn her, it was a very serious concern.

This was also around the time several angels had been recalled for reeducation, away from their posts.To prepare for battle and the coming war.Castiel herself had almost been one on that list, but she hadn’t been recalled because she had been at her post, doing her duty.She hadn’t known who was called; hadn’t really paid much attention, given that she had had to deal with a demonic uprising.That was probably the reason she hadn’t been recalled.

In the intervening years, before Dean’s resurrection, she had had to deal with several.Her garrison’s station was on the border between Heaven and Hell, one of the few that existed, a ‘back door’ of sorts into Heaven that was heavily guarded.

She did know the Host felt superior to their Father’s greatest creations.So much so they arrogantly assumed the apocalypse would be easy to start, and keep ‘on track’ as it were.It would be to her advantage if the angels had decided that the apocalypse was well underway, and thus had no reason to continue shadowing the Righteous Man. 

That would require a lot of work, though, and she wasn’t sure she could do it alone.Proving she wasn’t a threat was probably the first thing she’d have to do.

Castiel could only assume Dean had taken this case in the previous timeline, given their situation.She didn’t remember him actually talking about witch hunts, but on his hunt for the witches raising Samhain, he had expressed that they were ‘skeevy.’It was a sentiment she didn’t quite understand, but shared all the same. 

Witches made her very uncomfortable.Something itched at her about that, something from one of the times—she knew it had to have happened multiple times—she had been reeducated.It was impossible for her to remember, but…something was definitely wrong with her memories.

Shaking her head, Castiel turned her thoughts back to the matter at hand.Her memories would return, eventually.This was why angels that had been reeducated needed to be re-educated many times over.Not interact with humans, as she was.

It was possible that without her here, the events leading up to this case might never have come up in the first place.Time may have been attempting to compensate for her presence, and her divinity as well, as she’d already started making a name for herself in this time.She slid into the front seat of her car, a frown on her face.

The deaths had all been within the past month.Dangerously close to one another, even—a short span of time for a witch to work within, and definitely a sign of something demonic.

She looked at her current vessel’s eyes in the rearview mirror, reminded by their color of the first day she’d met Dean.Back then she’d been a man, not a woman, and very set in her ways; very assured of her faith, and very assured of herself.That the path she was on was righteous, and just, because Heaven had commanded it. 

Little had she known how much the Righteous Man would change her.Or how many emotions he would introduce her to, in the matter of a few months.

She tried to smile at herself in the mirror, to practice more.It still felt quite odd, to smile, but…not as much so as before.

Humans tended to stare at her if she didn’t show her emotions, and Cas didn’t want or need the extra attention that acting like an angel (or being too awkward around humans) would cause.She was rewarded with a small smile, one that made her look similar to Dean’s current age.It was a curious sensation to feel her cheeks moving, even after six months of practice, when she smiled.

No longer needing to repress and suppress her emotions had made her life much easier, though she would never admit that to a fellow angel. 

She still had a job to do in this town.Two, now that Dean had shown up.

First, she had to find the witch, or more likely, the _coven_ behind all this and stop them from killing more innocent people.Second, and more importantly, Dean had to stay alive.Even if she didn’t feel ready for it, that was her primary duty—both to herself and to the promise she had made him. 

It was time to take up her duties again as his guardian.Neither Winchester had been assigned a guardian angel, but perhaps that was for the best—it meant she could protect Dean up close, rather than trying to work around them.She started her car, feeling a little warmth in her chest (and that was still odd, emotions appearing as part of her vessel—no, her _body’s_ own functions) at the thought of working alongside him, and headed for the Davies’ house.

Their daughter, Jenny, had been the victim before Emily, and they were connected to each other.In Emily’s house she’d seen faint traces of a lovers’ connection between them, in some of the corners of the living room, though the house itself hadn’t been able to give her many clues.It was older than the deaths; it had stopped perhaps three months ago, and there were signs of a nasty end to the situation.

She’d been planning on heading to the Davies’ house anyway, since it looked like the previous victim, Jackson Lake, had been Jenny’s boyfriend during high school.That was enough of a connection to make her suspicious.Three connected victims meant there was a ritual or something very like it going on here.Something tugged at her Grace, shattered and healing though it still was—and utterly her own, now, no longer restored or empowered by Heaven or Hell, but the remedies Bobby had set her up with—but she couldn’t make out what it was.

That was important.Something in this town was calling her.Dean, maybe?The shattered Mark she still had half of?She wasn’t sure.

As she drove, she turned on the radio, which was tuned into the local classic rock station.It was the closest she could get to the music she remembered from riding in the Impala, but it still wasn’t quite the same.Her car didn’t smell right; the music wasn’t right either and there was no Dean singing along.Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time or energy to go hunt down the songs that Dean had once played, and hearing them without him didn’t help. 

But his music was still pleasing to her ears.

Learning to drive a car at first had been quite an experience.One involving many broken traffic poles and dented cars.And much shouting and swearing from Bobby, which had been quite amusing.She’d crashed four cars just by forgetting where the gas pedal was.Though the last wreck, one of his old junkers, was intentional—she’d done it to make him laugh.

However, she had gotten the hang of it quickly, and now she drove the way Dean did.Somewhat aggressively, to be sure, but not completely.But this car was not _home_ , not the way the Impala was.It wasn’t alive the way the Impala was. 

She didn’t have much of a choice right now in terms of transport, but the second she did, she would switch.She didn’t like this car.But she couldn’t fly right now.

After being smote, she wasn’t sure she’d ever fly again.Her wings and Grace had been shattered, completely destroyed by the smiting.And public transport made her ill.There were too many souls in one place, too many emotions crowding into her and her empathy hadn’t gone away.Unlike before, though, she couldn’t use her Grace to shield herself. 

Sensing all those emotions at once was distinctly unpleasant.At least Bobby had been willing to teach her how to drive.

She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.She had a witch to find.

The bathroom of the Smythes’ house had been filled with malevolence and hatred, and the aura around the sink also radiated _disgust_.That meant jealousy or, more likely, homophobia was a motive for the killing.That meant Cas was looking for someone with those qualities, and that didn’t narrow it down much; they were in a place where homophobia was unfortunately fairly common.She’d asked around about the Davies family, and discovered they were very anti-homosexual, but the Smythe girl had had a set of framed pictures of Jenny Davies.

She remembered overhearing Dean and Sam discussing angels, when they had thought she wasn’t around.She had been in the back seat of the Impala at the time, listening.Dean had said there was nothing more dangerous than a man on a holy mission.Humans used the Bible to justify persecuting each other for their own differences.

He was right, even then, when she hadn’t wanted to hear it.Dean’s wisdom was rather…unconventional, but never once had it proven _wrong_ , in her experience.More often than not, he had been the reason they had narrowly avoided being killed.

She turned onto a small, lazy residential street, glancing at the numbers on the sides of the houses until she found the one she wanted.Cas pulled into the driveway of the Davies’ house, parking exactly six inches from the other car, since the street was too narrow to keep her car from being caught in a collision otherwise.

There was also the fact that parallel parking, as humans called it, was almost impossible for her.It usually ended in either serious property damage or Cas needing to steal a new car.Often both, given that she’d never mastered that skill.Dean had, though.

She walked up to the front door, and hoping she wasn’t turned away at the door for wearing a man’s suit, she knocked three times, fingering the fake FBI badge in her pocket.No matter how many times she did this, she still felt uncomfortable lying to people to get onto the scene.The discomfort had lessened as time went on but it hadn’t gone away.

Dean had helped her learn to lie in the months before the apocalypse, when Sam was taken over by Lucifer but before Michael took over Adam to walk the Earth.Lying to anyone was a skill she hadn’t had before then.But now she could lie, and even if lying to a direct question was still beyond her, it was the best skill she’d gained from him.

Oddly enough, every lie she told made the next one easier to tell, and the guilt lessen.

Cas wasn’t sure she liked that trend.

The woman who answered the door was in her mid-to-late forties, with graying strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck.She was wearing a pink apron, a white shirt with sleeves that ended just below the elbow, and a gray pleated skirt that extended to her knees.Her soul was gentle, bearing the markings of motherhood, and it predicted that she would live another forty or fifty years.

“May I help you?” she asked, meeting Cas’ eyes with an expression of polite curiosity.

Cas pulled out her FBI badge, resisting the urge to shake herself. “Agent Cassandra MacGyver, FBI,” she said, and the woman looked surprised. “I’m here about Jennifer.”

The woman gasped “Oh, Lord,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Please, come in, Agent MacGyver.” She stepped back from the door, and Cas walked in, just remembering to wipe her shoes off politely.Another bit of human etiquette she didn’t quite understand, but mimicked all the same when not around hunters. “I’m her mother, Tracey.Frank!” she turned and called into the house “Frank!There’s an FBI agent here!”

“Be down in a minute!” called the preacher’s voice from upstairs.

He had a Utah accent.Curious, given that that accent wasn’t too common around here, but they were Mormon.Maybe the family had moved here from Utah or he’d spent a lot of time there.

Mrs. Davies looked back at her with a sad little smile on her face “How may I help you, Agent?”

The mew of a cat distracted her for a second, and Cas looked down to see a small white tomcat approaching, staring up at her with blue eyes.The cat was ordinary, certainly, but like all cats it was somewhat aware of the supernatural goings-on of the world around it.In truth, Cas preferred dogs, like her brother Gabriel, but cats always seemed to enjoy her presence and often demanded her attention. 

She never could figure out why they liked her, but she was warming to them more given how long she had been stuck in a human form.Petting one was therapeutic, in a way, and they tended to remind her to do things she forgot.

Though this one was normal, it held some of the qualities of a familiar.A witch’s familiar, at that.Curious.Could the witch she was looking for live here?Even if they didn’t, the cat was close enough tot he witch that Cas thanked her Father for sending her back so weakened.Right now, her divinity was so small so as to not be noticeable.

Tracey led her into the living room, which was sparsely furnished, but unlike at the Smythes’ house, it had no Chinese or other Asian touches.Instead, the furniture was more of what Cas had seen while hunting with Dean, and almost immediately she spotted a few touches of malevolent spirits on what had to be antiques.There weren’t nearly as many as she’d expected, though, and all of them were no longer able to affect the family.So they were exorcised…

Or perhaps consumed.Witches could consume the power of an old spirit if they discovered it was bound to a particular object, for a price, but the power was almost like that of a bought soul.It was a small source of power, but useful for warding a household.Sadly, doing that often sent the soul in question to Hell.

She wouldn’t be able to tell without touching each of them, and that was not the kind of proof she could provide to Dean right now.She could claim to be psychic all she wanted—she knew he wouldn’t listen to her.He didn’t believe in psychics and those he did believe in, like Ms. Moseley, made him incredibly nervous.

Cas turned back to Tracey “I have a few questions about your daughter, Jenny,” she said, and Tracey nodded. “Would you be able to answer some of them?”

“Of course,” said Tracey, smiling sadly. “I never knew my daughter would…” of course she hadn’t; what mother would? “How could she…” she swallowed hard “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Cas gently, “I understand, it’s difficult.I’ll try to make this quick.”

“I thought it was a suicide,” said Tracey, her voice trembling. “An accident.Th-they said she ate it—thought it was food.Why…why…”

Cas had an explanation ready, but Tracey looked like she was going to fall over. This wasn’t a good discussion to have standing anyway.

“Why don’t we sit?” suggested Cas, guiding Tracey over to the couch and helping her to sit, joining her on the couch. “Jenny’s death is one of ten in the last month,” she said as gently as she could. “For a large city, ten deaths in a month might be normal.For a small town, it isn’t. It caught our attention.”

“Y-Yes,” said Tracey, wiping at her eyes “Of course.S-so of course the FBI finds…finds something strange ab-bout it?” she asked, hiccuping, and Cas nodded.

She chose her words cautiously, knowing the witch might be in this house and even listening to her right now.

“The number of deaths are out of the ordinary,” she said soothingly “And I’m afraid the latest victim was also connected to your daughter,” explained Cas “It’s the only lead we have.I’m sorry that I have to ask you about this.”

Tracey nodded “I-I understand,” she said, “It’s—I’m sorry, it’s just hard, to think of her…” Cas nodded, resting her hand against Tracey’s arm, attempting to offer comfort. “What do you need to know?” she asked.

Cas took a deep breath, and pulled out her list of names from her pocket. “This is a list of the victims, including your daughter,” Tracey nodded “Do you know if your daughter was directly connected to any of them?” she asked, handing it over. 

She knew one of them had been Jenny’s high school English teacher, but she didn’t know anything else about a possible connection between the victims.It almost appeared…no, she would have to thoroughly research the victims to be certain, but it looked like they were linked by the Mentor-Student bond.And if Jenny was the lodestone for this whole mess, why her?What was the point of sacrificing her and people around her?

Something about this situation seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.She was going to have to go to the library and hope she found something, or, in the worst case, call Bobby.

Tracey read down the list, shaking her head at the first two but then stopped at the third. “Richard Maynard.He was her teacher in high school for homeroom and history,” she said. Then she moved to the next name. “Benjamin Lewis is her ex-boyfriend,” she frowned “He was convinced she was crazy, s-something about—a-about our h-h-house being h-haunted.”

Cas just nodded.Sometimes those with psychic talent were perceived as insane, or jealousy could also prompt some accusations of insanity.So could a mental illness, a discordant mess of physical chemicals in the person’s brain, a reflection of their soul.It was entirely possible that her ‘craziness’ was the reason she was targeted by the witches, too, not that Cas would mention it.She _had_ learned that lesson, thanks to a crash course in manners by Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle when she’d managed to make it to Singer’s house.

It had taken her about a month and a half, but those two had taught her more than her family ever had. Other than the Winchesters, who had taught her to live as a human.And that humanity, as a whole, _was good_.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, and looked up to see a man with graying brown hair and brown eyes walking towards them.He was a little taller than Cas but still shorter than Dean, built like a bodybuilder, though he’d softened around the middle some with age, wearing a red plaid shirt and jeans.Behind him walked a pair of teenagers; the first was a girl, with long, dark brown hair, Asiatic features, and heavy-lidded hazel-brown eyes.The second was another girl, who resembled Jenny, except she didn’t have red in her hair and she was shorter.She also had her father’s eyes.

The first girl didn’t look anything like Tracey.That was odd, given that she had the man’s eyes…infidelity, perhaps?From the way they looked at each other, the way Tracey averted her eyes from the seemingly-unrelated girl, it seemed likely. 

That was something.A half-sister was involved in a ritual or two; that, she was certain of.But what?Why couldn’t she _remember_?

“Tracey,” said her husband, Frank Davies. “You must be the FBI agent,” he said, turning to Cas, who noticed Tracey’s body language shift slightly, relaxing a little as her husband entered the room.

But the skin around her eyes had tightened, and didn’t return to normal as the girls walked in.

Cas stood up so that she could speak to him properly “Yes, I am Agent Cassidy MacGyver,” she said, showing her badge again.

One of the girls snickered.The partly-Asian one.Strange, Emily hadn’t had a sister, yet there were traces of this girl’s soul around Emily’s house.An imprint of some kind.And there was also something familiar about this one’s soul that was similar to Emily’s.She couldn’t see anything without delving more deeply, however, and that would be dangerous, as it would alert anything supernatural in the area that there was a powerful psychic in town.Curiously, Tracey’s expression became slightly more pinched when her eyes landed on the girl.

There was definitely a problem with the not-quite-related girl.But what, exactly?Infidelity?Was she Emily’s half-sister?Cousin, perhaps?

The preacher smiled “I am Father Frank Davies,” he said, shaking her hand, before he got a good look at her. “Forgive me, but are you wearing a men’s suit?”

Cas smiled a little, attempting to follow one of Ellen’s rules. “Yes.I find this more comfortable than a woman’s suit, which typically includes heels.I have tried to wear heels.I nearly broke my ankle when I had to run after a suspect the last time I did.”

She almost held her breath, hoping he believed her.

Six months, and she still couldn’t lie without expecting someone to see through it.She knew tensing like that was the easiest way to see through a liar, especially with what Dean had taught her but Cas couldn’t help herself.

Frank chuckled, nodding to her.Then he turned to look at the two girls, “These are my daughters,” he said, “This is my daughter Adrianna,” he said, gesturing to the heavy-lidded, dark-haired girl. “And her sister, Jessie,” the light-haired girl smiled at Cas. “How may we help you?”

Cas smiled at both of the girls for a moment, and then turned to Frank, “I’m here about your daughter, Jennifer,” Frank nodded. “Would you rather your daughters leave?” she asked quietly “I don’t want to disturb them.”

“They found her,” said Frank quietly, as he glanced at his children.

This wouldn’t disturb them if that hadn’t, then, and clearly neither of them wanted to leave.Not from the mulish set of Adrianna’s mouth, nor the spark of determination that had just flared in Jessie’s eyes.

Cas nodded, and sat back down next to Tracey, who asked her, “Do you have a pen?I could draw out the connections I know for you,” she offered.

“Connections?” Jessie asked “What connections?”

Cas handed Tracey a pen, noting the slight Utah accent in Jessie’s voice, but not Adrianna’s. “That would be helpful.Thank you.”

“Wait, isn’t that against regulations?” asked Adrianna before her mom started writing.Tracey looked up at Cas with a raised eyebrow. “To let a witness write things for you?”

If she was really FBI, she’d be in trouble for it, but she wasn’t.Her partner wouldn’t mind, if he really believed her—and Cas had to at least pretend he was her partner, so as to keep him from being found out.He was even more unconventional than Cas, by FBI agent standards.Besides, she knew he’d have to double-check her research until she showed him who she was.Which, while annoying, was also understandable.

Cas shrugged “I’m not a strict rule-follower, and I’ve always found that regulation to be a little unhelpful on a case.After all, it’s not like your mother is a suspect in your sister’s death.” The whole family gasped. “Presumably, the regulation is meant to prevent tampering with evidence by suspects.If my partner takes offense, I’ll recopy the information.”

Not to mention she would notice if Tracey lied.That was something else a ‘real’ FBI agent would have trouble telling.

Frank looked surprised “You have a partner?” might as well help him out, thought Cas, as she remembered Dean. “I thought you said you were here alone.”

Ah.She was still working on that.Didn’t mean she wouldn’t make things easier for Dean, though.The worst he could do would be to call Bobby to get to know who she was.She wasn’t ready, but Cas wasn’t about to leave him out of this case, either.Not when he could be walking into an ambush and not know, without her talking to him.

She replied “Yes, originally I was but the case is too complex for me to solve completely on my own.I called for backup when I realized that I couldn’t find anything new in the patterns.Having a fresh pair of eyes might show me a set of links between the victims that I’m missing,” Frank nodded, and after a moment so did his daughters.

The least she could do was help with Dean’s cover story.He might not thank her right now, but later, she knew he would.Or maybe he wouldn’t—at least, not aloud, but her hunter’s soul showed his emotions all too well. 

She would need his help, too, if this was as complex as this looked to be, _and_ caused by a witch.

“Please, sit,” said Frank, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the room.Jessie sat in the other one, while Adrianna perched on the arm of it, and Cas sat back down. “What can I do to help?I thought my daughter’s death was ruled an accident, even though you looked into it.”

Cas nodded, “Yes, but there have been ten such,” she paused, considering her words before settling on something relatively gentle, “Accidents, counting Jenny’s, in the past month.Ten suicides or accidents is unusual for a town this size.Did your daughter have any enemies, Mr. Davies?Anything that would make her a target?”

Frank said “Please, call me Frank,” and Cas nodded.He frowned, “I would have said her ex, Ben Davis, but he’s one of the ones that’s died.He even—he—passed away a week before she did.”

It was always possible for a witch to die from being unintentionally caught up in her own spell, but it was unlikely that was what was happening.There were too many dead people here.Still, she filed it away for later consideration.

“Not that I can think of, except…I would maybe have said Emily.The two of them were always fighting.”

In public, maybe they had been.In private, Cas could tell from the way their residual auras overlapped at Emily’s house, and here, that things were quite different.They had been lovers, committed and together, but their families had never known the truth.But maybe there had been difficulties between the two women, perhaps due to being in a secret relationship.Or, as Zachary Quinn had expressed interest in Emily, it was possible Emily was cheating on Jenny and that was what resulted in her death.But as far as she knew, none of Jenny’s close family was the witch in question. 

Unless there was someone she was missing from the equation. 

Perhaps the girl had a very good friend somewhere.But if that was the case, why kill Jenny, too? 

Tracey held the notepad out to Cas, with the pen “Here,” she said, “I hope this helps.”

Cas looked down at the notepad.Tracey had drawn links between different names, with short explanations of the links such as ‘teacher’ between them.Curiously, all of them seemed to orbit around Jenny.

“Thank you, it does,” she said, turning to the younger sisters “Do either you know if your sister had any enemies?Someone who wanted her hurt or gone for any reason?”

Adrianna looked at Jessie and for a moment, Cas could see something unspoken passing between the two of them.They knew something; she didn’t know what, but they were involved.

Then Jessie shook her head “No…n-not that I can think of,” but the quaver in her voice told another story.

She looked to Adrianna, sensing something pressing up against the outskirts of her wards, but there was no demon behind the girl’s face.That did not mean she was innocent, but Adrianna’s soul would’ve warned her if the girl was a real threat.Adrianna’s soul was confused, as if she couldn’t quite decide who she wanted to be.Given that she was about fourteen years old, that was normal.But there was something else there.

The pressure was barely noticeable.It was likely a sign of burgeoning psychic abilities, or sensitivity to Cas’ true nature.Some people were capable of perceiving the presence of an angel even when they were as injured as she, and that might be dangerous for Cas.At the end of the case, she’d have to look into this, but it wasn’t a pressing concern unless Adrianna was mixed up in this.

She didn’t appear to recognize that she was doing it, though.That was good.Still, Cas would have to be careful around the girl.

Adrianna shook her head “I don’t know that anyone would’ve wanted to hurt Jenny. She was one of the nicest people I knew, even if she was a little slow sometimes.”

Jessie glared at her and Adrianna held up her hands defensively.

“Girls,” said Tracey warningly, “Behave.” Both of them cooled down, and Tracey turned to Cas apologetically “I’m sorry.”

Cas smiled slightly, “It’s alright.I have a pair of older brothers who used to act the same way.”

Frank chuckled “That sounds like brothers, alright.”

Yes, but that idiotic feud of theirs was going to lead to the apocalypse, if Castiel didn’t do something.Honestly, Michael and Lucifer needed to grow up and just talk to each other.Perhaps if her Father…but then…why would Lucifer be so _evil_ if not for the… 

Something wasn’t right here.The apocalypse, the whole… Lucifer’s Fall, she knew that couldn’t have happened the way it was written.Heaven had been wrong about so much.Had miswritten things that the Prophet had spoken years and years ago, according to Gabriel.

Maybe there was more to Lucifer’s Fall than Castiel had originally believed.If that was the case then she had to look into it because the Lucifer that had possessed Sam and the Michael that had taken over Adam and killed them both was—there was just something _wrong_ with both of them. 

Castiel set that train of thought aside to focus about later, when she wasn’t on the case.It wasn’t time for that right now.She could ruminate on the approaching apocalypse when she didn’t have a friend to protect from witches.

Cas paused “Is there a reason your sister would be targeted?From what I understand, she died of,” she glanced at her notes “aconite poisoning, having thought it was food.”

Tracey shook her head “Who would target my daughter?” she asked helplessly. “How could they have done _that_ to her?”

Done what?This was exactly why she needed to look at the body, so she could figure this out.And right now, she only needed a list of suspects.She looked at Frank, who was as bewildered as his wife, and then to the younger sisters.Only Jessie seemed to know anything, but she was staying quiet.

“Jessie,” said Cas gently, and the girl looked up at her fearfully. “Is there something you know?”

Tracey and Frank looked at her “Honey?” asked Frank quietly.

“I didn’t-I didn’t think it was important,” stuttered Jessie, looking at Adrianna, who was staring at her with a look that said ‘talk.’Cas recognized it because Dean used to use it on her and Sam. “I-I,” Jessie swallowed “I heard Jenny arguing with someone the day before she was killed.S-She was on the phone, but-but it was on speaker, or they were yelling, I don’t know.A-And I remember at college, she was going to b-become a botanist.S-she loved plants, kept them I-in her room all the time.Why…”

Botany was the study of plants.That could explain the monkshood poisoning, but Cas was fairly sure from the police report ruling that a ‘living plant’ was the cause of death meant something more was going on here.But if Jenny had studied botany with someone who was really good, someone who was upset that she was dating Emily…

Cas looked Jessie in the eye. “Was someone she was working with hurting or threatening to hurt her?” she asked, “Do you know anything about what was happening?”

Jessie bit her lip “I picked up the phone and listened in for the last part of the argument.Whoever it was, she sounded angry, and-and-then her voice…i-it…” she shook her head “It doesn’t make sense.Human voices can’t…can’t _do_ that, not even with a voice-changer.”

Castiel had no idea what a voice-changer was, but she understood the basic information the girl was trying to give the ex-angel.She was certain there was a witch in town, but a demon acting as a witch?Unexpected, certainly but she couldn’t rule that out, and if the other’s voice had echoed down the line, it was a powerful one.

Gently, she asked “What did it do, Jessie?”

“I-it got really deep—and kind of throaty, not like yours but like there were two people talking with one mouth, not one,” then they were definitely dealing with a demonic possession, on top of multiple witches.Fucking great. “S-she said—it said—whoever it was said Jenny had failed,” Jessie said quietly. “Said—said they were…were coming to c-collect on h-her d-debt.”

Collect.Cas could have smacked herself for missing the obvious. 

That meant Jenny was either a witch who’d _stopped_ practicing, or she’d made a demon-deal.She’d have to take a look at the body to know for sure, but she hadn’t seen any obvious markers, not even in Jenny’s aura around the house.Then again, not all demon-deals went hand in hand with Hellhounds.Those were usually for the particularly stubborn souls or those who sought to bring immediate, instant paint to their marks.Some demons liked to play with their food for a long time first.

Outwardly, she remained calm, and said gently “Did she say what she was coming to collect?”

Jessie shook her head quickly “Th-they just s-said if Jenny d-didn’t do it, th-they’’d complete the—uh, the…” she frowned “Umm…it sounded kind of like…” she made a noise that sounded like very badly pronounced Enochian, mangled and broken, like scraping rocks. “B-but I don’t know what it _meant_.”

Castiel went rigid.She knew exactly what that word meant.It was a summoning sigil, a call sign for one of the warriors of old but for it to have gone deep and throaty and to be talking about debts—no.No, she had to be wrong, Father, let her be wrong.

She turned to a fresh page in her notepad, wrote the sigil for _fallen_ as well as adding the second part of it, _traitor_ and potentially _Hell gate_.She thought there was only one, but since this was fucking _Bear River_ , she couldn’t take the chance.They were too close to the Hell Gate for that to be any coincidence.

“Anything else?Did whoever it was _know_ you were listening in?” inquired Cas gently, keeping her tone level and even so as not to scare the girl.

“N-No, I don’t think so,” said Jessie, “I-I was really quiet, a-and the person was yelling, w-when it happened.B-but-but—th-they were—the person, they were called P, P…Pai-something,” she frowned “I-I don’t…does that…” Jessie looked terrified “Who was that?What did they want?W-Was—was my sister on _drugs_?Oh, God…” she buried her head in her hands.

Pai-something could mean three different things were demanding Jenny’s payment, none of them good.But she had to be certain of who they were dealing with, and that this wasn’t an impersonation.If it was, it was a damn good one.Only a few demons dared use Enochian these days, and fewer still could pronounce it without hurting themselves quite badly.It was one reason Castiel liked Enochian so much.

Fallen angels, on the other hand, who’d followed Lucifer into Hell had a much easier time with the language.

Cas had a very hard time keeping her voice low and gentle as she replied “I’m sure it wasn’t drugs, Jessie,” she said, and then Adrianna jumped in, putting an arm around her sister’s shoulders.

“I knew something was wrong,” said Adrianna, scowling, “I just didn’t know _what_.”

Their parents were staring at them like they’d never seen their children before in their lives.Cas imagined they hadn’t expected anything of the sort.

Tracey turned to Cas “You—do you…do you know…” She swallowed.

Frank finished “Who wanted to kill my daughter?”

Cas looked at the whole family gravely for a moment, debating with herself.As devout Mormons, they were more likely to believe what she had to tell them if she did tell them the truth, especially as they thought she was a fellow Mormon.She had done her best to pretend to be from a Mormon family, after all, in the hopes of getting more information on the other victims.Word had spread already that she was raised Mormon, which was why the Davies had been so willing to answer her questions.Last time they’d just answered a few of her questions; here, and now, they were answering many, many more of them. 

Originally, the killings had looked to be specifically targeted at Mormons.A witch with a grudge, or a set of witches could have perpetuated that.Cas would have believed it if not for Emily’s death.The clues now pointed to something, much, much worse.

Emily Smythe wasn’t a Mormon, but she was the lover of a witch.Now, though, if Cas said anything she’d either be claimed crazy or be hailed as the messiah.She couldn’t afford either of those things right now.And unless she was sure none of them was under the control of the demon—no, the Fallen, then she would have to be very, very careful.

Right now it was better to keep her suspicions to herself until she was sure of what was really going on.Even if her instincts were usually right, she needed to double-check, first.

Taking a few deep breaths, Cas turned to Frank, coming up with a lie, “I don’t yet, but this is more information than I’ve had since I arrived in town.I know there was a similar case many years ago,” there had to be, “But I’m not sure it’s the same thing.Jessie,” she looked up, looking shaken. “Adrianna.Did your sister come home different one week, from college?Not in public, but in private?Was she maybe talking to a new girl or guy in town, someone who was about ten years older than her?”

Adrianna frowned “No…” shaking her head, and so did Jessie. 

Tracey, though, said “She said one of her friends was really into this old occult series, and thought she’d try it.She read it to laugh at, she said, but it should still be up in her room.”

Cas nodded.More information was always good.And weird old occult books usually had clues…and more than that, they were about magic, most of them.Some of them were even true, planted by demons to try and gain a little more of a foothold in the upper world. 

“May I see her room, and where she was found?” Cas inquired politely.

The killings were definitely by a coven, and with the debt, possibly by a witch possessed by a demon.An old and powerful demon, at that.She didn’t like this one bit.It was equally likely that the witch was only partially possessed, since the more powerful demons and Knights of Hell couldn’t leave Hell without a sacrificial ritual of some sort taking place.But if a demon deal had led to Jenny’s death, it was because Jenny had failed in a task set by the demon…or by its servants.

Which confirmed the presence of a coven, either with a highly ranked demon in its midst or, one that was planning to summon a high-ranked demon to Earth and use the small gaps between the Gate and Earth to do it.

Neither of these options was particularly reassuring.Especially since both weakened the Hell Gate.

Frank nodded “I’ll take you upstairs,” he started, but Adrianna and Jessie both jumped to their feet.

“Dad, I’d like to take her up,” said Adrianna, her eyes sharp and trained on Cas. 

Jessie nodded.

“I’m sorry, Agent MacGyver,” began Tracey, but Cas placated her with a raised hand and a small smile.

She replied “I don’t mind.Besides, it smells as if you were cooking something,” she said, and Tracey jumped to her feet, a horrified look on her face.

Frank shouted “The bread!” and the two of them headed for the kitchen at almost a run. “Be good, and show her the room!” he called over his shoulder to the girls, who were left alone with Cas.

Being left with them was a good thing.Children were often more truthful without adults around, and were in the perfect position to hear more, as they were often overlooked by the older members of the family.Adrianna was older, and likely adopted (or half-sibling, though half-sibling was becoming more and more likely) whereas Jessie was a younger, natural child of the family. 

“Come on,” said Jessie, tugging on her sleeve “We’ll show you.” With that, she led Cas up the long flight of stairs to the second floor of their house. 

Adrianna was watching Castiel like a hawk, her dark eyes fixed on every one of Cas’ movements.Cas didn’t mind, as she could understand the obsessive need to protect your younger sibling.She definitely looked like Emily.Father knew she had felt that way much of the time with Sam, even though he wasn’t her sibling, given the trouble he got into without her or Dean around.She had also sometimes felt that way around Dean, since he was as bad as Sam when it came to getting into situations that required angelic backup. 

Especially after the apocalypse had begun.Those two were danger magnets of the highest caliber.

She was led through a hallway with portraits hanging on the wall, past a railing and to a white door with a single word hanging on the front.The word was _Jennifer_ , and it was on a name plaque in black lettering, the plaque itself being small and blue.The door next to it, curiously, said _Judith_ in white lettering on a green plaque on a light, pastel-yellow door, but there was nothing odd about that room.Perhaps Judith just wasn’t home.

Either way, she needed to know more about Judith.The presence of a fourth sibling wasn’t exactly something Cas had planned on and if they were twins or related in any way then that might just have been the opening the demon needed.It would be doubly ironic if it were her sister doing the killing.

“This was her room,” said Adrianna quietly “We found her lying on her bed last week.”

The minute they were inside, Cas took a look around the room, which was rather innocuous.The walls were painted a light shade of green with dark green, leafy vines patterned all across them, different flowers (she counted nasturtiums, lilies, multiple types of roses, and tulips, and there were likely more) sprouting from the vines where they wound around each other.There was a massive mahogany bookshelf to her right with a similar sort of patterning, and with a closer look at the vines Cas saw stylized sigils written in Enochian.

Definitely a witch, then.

Her bed was made perfectly, with a lilac coverlet and white pillowcases, and it and the furniture around it ws white.Jenny’s desk sat against the wall with a set of pictures on it, in which Cas recognized many of the former victims almost immediately, as well as Emily, with Jenny’s arm thrown around her, both of them beaming at the camera.

Then a wave of malevolent hate crashed over her and Cas wanted to be sick.Her energy formed a shield, protecting her from it as she looked down, seeing it oozing from the walls, ceiling, and even the floorboards.Her stomach roiled a little in protest as her shattered Grace ached.Beneath the malevolence she could sense a powerful love between Emily and Jenny, but it was overshadowed by grief and _hate_ , hate so strong Cas could barely think through it before the shock faded.

Both of them (Emily and Jenny) had spent a great deal of time in here, presumably when Jenny’s parents weren’t around, else they would have been more horrified.Or would they?The door shut behind them as Castiel turned to look around the room.

The massive mahogany bookshelf to Cas’ right attracted her attention almost immediately.It spanned most of the wall, opposite the windows, and it reached the ceiling.There were pictures, glass figurines, and a few other items Cas didn’t recognize on sight sitting on the top shelf.There was also a small sprig of aconite with violet, blooming flowers in a small earthenware pot on the top shelf, next to a few other plants-rosemary, thyme, and hemlock.Two poisons next to two normal plants wasn’t abnormal, but aconite was also easy to accidentally inhale.Why would she keep those together? 

The bookshelf had several sigils carved into each shelf and its sides, obviously hiding something.

Judging by the sigils alone, which didn’t ooze malevolence but _were_ indicative of the fact that Jenny had begun selling her soul, she’d been leading a double life that her family never knew about.Her books ranged from fantastical romances in other worlds to the occult books Castiel expected to find on Bobby Singer’s bookshelf (or Dean’s, in some cases).It was quite extensive, but most of the books were trashy or badly translated, unlike Bobby’s collection, which was full of quality, rare books.However, there was a particular section that oozed malevolence, hatred, and began to flash demonic taint at Cas from the upper-left corner of the bookshelf.

It was likely to be authentic, too, or she’d never have sensed it to begin with.

Adrianna started after her but Cas said “Stay where you are, both of you.” The two of them glared at her, in stereo. “I mean it,” she said, noting the upper-left corner of the eight-foot-tall bookshelf, which was outfitted with a makeshift concealment ward to the side.

And one that had been broken recently.Why would Jenny have broken the concealment ward?It looked as if Jenny had been the one to do it, but the malevolence in the room was so tangible Cas couldn’t be certain she had.It was just a feeling she had.

Her feelings hadn’t led her astray yet.They were probably a remnant of her broken Grace—one she was very grateful for.

Jessie started “Why?” she asked as Castiel examined the bookshelf’s corner, seeing the tip of a hex bag poking out.

Another one.Her day was just getting better and better.Making the last one harmless had been an _accident_ ; at least this time, her Grace wasn’t sparking and pulling at its reins, no matter how broken and bruised it was. 

Cas snapped on a pair of gloves, and then pulled out a pair of tweezers and a cloth bag, which she had woven several purification and warding spells into.Though hex bags couldn’t affect her directly, they might alert the witch to her presence, and this one she needed to examine more closely.It wasn’t the same as the one in Emily’s house, which was easy to purify and render harmless. 

She pulled over Jenny’s footstool and climbed up on top of it, reaching up to tug out the hex bag.She managed to pull it out after a few tugs, trying to identify the taint wafting off it as she lowered it into the cloth bag. 

It felt like a punch in the stomach when Castiel recognized it, and how it fought her warding, just as the last had only _stronger_.Dear Father, what had Lucifer wrought?

“One of the First,” said Cas quietly, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized what she was dealing with. “Oh…” and she said something nasty in the first language to come to mind that wasn’t English, to keep the children from learning anything from her.

Swearing in another, old language was an old habit of hers, from dealing with Dean and Sam for so long.English often didn’t have the right words for what she wanted to say.These days, though, she had more trouble not speaking her mind.

She sealed the plastic bag off and dropped it in her pocket, well away from her Grace-filled body.

“Alright,” said Adrianna suspiciously “What’s going on?You recognized that Pai-thing Jessie said downstairs, and now you’re using a cloth to hold that, and not touching some weird bag?” 

Cas glanced back her way “You’re too young to lose your innocence to a world like this,” she said quietly, looking around the rest of the room for another hex bag, but Adrianna’s eyes narrowed, her expression setting at the words.

Cas found none.It was really quite a beautiful room, with the artistic designs on the walls, so clearly hand-painted.And not by Jenny; she was a botanist.The designs had been painted by someone else.The desk and desk lamp also lit up a tray of plants that were set in small, square-shaped pots on the windowsill. 

Much better than her current motel room.But then, she didn’t exactly need to sleep, before—and now she had a full appreciation for just how much Sam and Dean did for others.

The spells on this room would take her some time to undo, but she felt she owed it to the family to ensure there were no lingering traces of dark magic in their home.But it would take her more time than she had.If one of the First were here, then it meant the spell’s residue might affect anyone in this room if they chose to clean it, and it was possible there were hex bag ingredients somewhere or other.Clean-up was absolutely necessary in cases like this. 

Later, she would also have to remove the occult books from the shelf, just to ensure nobody decided to summon a demon with them or started ‘messing around,’ as Dean called it.There had been some case he’d run into with Sam a few years before they met, one where a demon-possessed girl was acting as the ‘friend’ of a few housewives and tempting them into selling their souls for no reason—and convincing them it was a joke the whole time. 

Cas had no intention of letting this situation go that far.If she found that demon the she would exorcise it on the spot.Or kill it.She wasn’t picky.

“What do you _mean_?” demanded Adrianna “You know something.You know why our sister died.”

“Something that you’re much better off not knowing,” said Cas shortly, looking back at the glaring girl. “Tell me, how would you like to know what I am up against, knowing that if I confront it, I am likely to die?” Adrianna gasped, and Jessie paled.

Jessie stuttered “Y-You’re not really FBI, are you?”

Cas sighed, “I’ve gotten better at lying, but no, I’m not actually FBI.I know what I’m doing is illegal,” she said, forestalling the question “But this, figuring out what really killed your sister, _is_ my job.”

She turned to the window nearest the bed, which had a single sigil carved into the lower-left-hand corner.Kneeling next to it, Castiel squinted, shifting her position until she could see it.It was Enochian for _Revenge_ , carved on the _inside_ of the room.That was definitely one of the First.And if they knew Enochian, chances were they could use it against her.

She hadn’t exactly had the chance to test how well it worked on her, given that she was even weaker than the lowest ranked servant of Heaven. 

“I really, really hoped I was wrong.Why can’t I be wrong just once?” muttered the angel, earning curious looks from her companions. “One of these days I’m going to be wrong, and there will be one less problem to worry about,” she grumbled, getting to her feet.

“But—I-I mean—you know what’s going on, right?” Jessie asked, “You know what killed my sister.And all those people.A-and your partner—your partner knows too, right?”

Cas turned to look at them “Yes.I do know what’s going on, but I have to cross-reference the information to be sure,” she put the cloth bag in her pocket. “But for now, I want you to stay out of your sister’s room.Both of you.”

Adrianna scowled “Why should we listen to _you_?”

Cas, having dealt with several stubborn humans, just smiled a little. “Come over here, but don’t touch the window or the bookshelf.” They did as they were told, Adrianna with a huff and Jessie with a curious glance at the bookshelf. “You see this?” she pointed to the etched drawing.

“Yeah, it’s a drawing,” said Adrianna.

“It’s not just a drawing.It’s Enochian,” said Cas, “For ‘revenge.’” Adrianna and Jessie both looked at her with incredulity in their eyes. “Enochian is a language no longer spoken by more than a few, and those that do speak it, do not speak it aloud.It is also an old language, one of great power.” She took a breath “If you touch this, then you’re next.I have no doubt that Emily Smythe touched this rune, and that is why she is dead.The symbol is a warning, likely from someone your sister met outside of this town.It is usually _given_ , freely, should someone betray another.” Cas sighed “And it also means I’m dealing with something powerful enough to kill me.”

And if it was a coven, like she thought it was, then it was likely that an arch-demon, one of the First Demons, was backing it.Lilith hadn’t been released yet, and this was not Lilith’s type of work.No, this was one of the pettier First Demons, or one of the more vindictive.She couldn’t tell which, exactly, but to have that power, it had to be one of the Fallen.

All of them were supposed to be dead, but Cas knew, from the months leading up to the apocalypse, that a scant few of them remained alive, and in the Pit.In fact, Azazel had been one of them.Azriel had fallen with Lucifer, with his own nephilim children.

But it couldn’t be Azazel.He was already active in the world.It had to be someone else.

Jessie frowned “But,” she started “My sister…she—she wouldn’t…”

Adrianna, though, seemed to get it. “She loved her plants,” said the Asian girl quietly, “Said they were like her children.” She swallowed “Why…”

“It would mean the ultimate betrayal, for her own plants to kill her,” murmured Cas, already seeing where this was going.Emily’s relationship with Jenny was part of this; she could feel it… “Whoever did this is very powerful.” She turned to the children. “Listen to me, both of you.If you touch _anything_ in this room, you might be next.You or your parents, or anyone else in your family.Tell your parents that the evidence can’t be touched, because the killer is keeping watch on this room.”

“W-watching…” started Jessie “Watching _us_?Now?!” she looked about ready to cry, she was so panicked.

Cas’ lips twitched “Not right now, or I wouldn’t take the time to talk about it.” Actually, she’d probably be halfway to Heaven by now, banished, if she was recognized.What little of her Grace seeped out wasn’t enough to force one to work, but it was noticeable, if she wasn’t shrouding it—which she was, but it was still an uncontrollable thing. “My partner and I—we aren’t FBI agents, but we _are_ people who know how to deal with this kind of thing.We know how to stop people who kill the way this one is.” She paused, “And if you ever find anything that you think might be the key to stopping this, here’s my number,” she held out a slip of paper and Adrianna took it with a nod.

“Thanks,” she said, though she was still looking at Cas with suspicion.

After double-checking that the girls weren’t going to give her secret away, Cas went back downstairs with them, and thanked the Davies for answering her questions.She was offered the chance to stay for dinner, but she made up having to go compare notes with her ‘partner,’ intending to go to the morgue to double-check the magical residue on the corpses.She needed to determine just what she was up against.

Hopefully, while she was there, she would run into Dean again.She needed help on this case, and she wasn’t above asking for it.If he wasn’t too suspicious of her, he’d help her. 

She hoped.Father, she hoped he would.She needed Dean’s help.She needed his trust.  She didn't know what she would do without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Cas has a lot to think about. Dean seems more the type to do rather than think, but his chapters will get longer too.
> 
> A note about Fem Cas: Part of the reason I had trouble with this was that I was struggling to understand how angels defined the concept of gender. I spent a good three or four months changing Castiel to neutral, male, and female and debating what it means to make Cas take a female vessel. Given that we know they take a female vessel in the past (prior to canon) that also made me really think since everyone on the show assumes Cas is a guy, especially after falling. I have had a lot of conversations about this to try and understand it, especially as it relates to the novel I'm slowly chipping away at while I think about these things. Eventually, I decided that Castiel doesn't REALLY care and will just identify as whichever gender their current vessel is. That will make life easier on me if Jimmy Novak ends up involved in the sequels. Also, it seems to fit Castiel's personality more (in my mind) than not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked my version of Dean-I had a hard time with his voice, but I think I got there in the end. 
> 
> Don't worry, Cas and Dean will interact a lot more in future chapters; this is just the opening salvo/research scene-barely three minutes of your typical episode.


End file.
